


When You Loved Me

by The_ElvenRavenclaw_of221B



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Draco/Luna - Freeform, F/M, Hurt, Memory Charm, Past, Post-War, Romance, cheat, druna, married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_ElvenRavenclaw_of221B/pseuds/The_ElvenRavenclaw_of221B
Summary: She loved him. He left her.He chose someone else. She chose to forget, literally.





	1. Two Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Fall Out Boy's Just One Yesterday...

Draco savoured the pleasant burn of the amber liquid as it passed through his throat.

He sighed softly, leaning back against his chair as he welcomed the sweet chemical drowning his senses into his system. He could feel himself succumbing into alcohol-induced intoxication ever so slowly, satisfyingly.

He eyed the empty bottle of firewhiskey with a shade of amusement. The temptation provided by that stuff had never worked on Draco enough to make him a constant drinker, let alone crave its imminent effect. He had always had control over the state of his emotive tendencies and had always been able to lock it away from the very surface of his mind if need be.

Drinking to get, well, drunk had never appealed greatly on Draco. He never liked the dazed disorientation that alcohol brings to his body especially to his mind. It made him feel even more lost and the situation more complicated.

And yet, here he was; sitting in his studies with an empty bottle of firewhiskey, wanting nothing but to cloud the complex swirl of emotions with alcohol. Draco berated himself for acting so irrationally, so immaturely. There  was absolutely no point in being so utterly affected to the extent that he had to trust his gnawing thoughts to be flushed away by mere chemicals. Hadn't it been already two years? Hadn't he coped well ever since?

After all, this wasn't how he should act-- this wasn't how a Malfoy should behave.

Ironic, Draco thought. He wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't put the family name first, if he hadn't put such a great value on the bloodline. What would it have been if he didn't make those decisions? What would it be like if things had been a bit different?

Draco almost scowled at the thought. That chapter of his life had come to pass, buried deep in his memories but not entirely forgotten. Memories. That was what became of that brief period of his life from two years ago-- memories that had the tendency to resurface from the depths whenever they pleased. Memories that haunted him almost everynight when he lay awake in his bed; instilling guilt, casting internal torment.

What should had been forgotten two years ago had latched itself onto him-- a burden he had ignored for so long and yet he could still feel its weight.

Acting like it never happened was more than a great help and Draco would be totally honest to say that he wished it never did. It was so much more easier to deceive yourself than to face the reality, for the reality had been proven to be painfully unbearable.

Draco was doing a pretty good job of it too-- that was until he overheard Ministry witches talking in the lift that he knew that the reality wouldn't be too evasive for his liking.

"Haven't you heard? The empty post in the Department of Experimental Charms is going to be filled in this week."

"Really? By who?"

The glass he was holding had suddenly been thrown against the bookshelf with such force that debris flew everywhere. Next thing, the empty bottle of firewhiskey joined the shattered glass on the floor in a heap of glistening shards. He could have stopped it if he tried but somehow the effect of alcohol mingled with cold self hatred made him want to do something-- anything that would mean he still had control.

"Well, I've only heard rumours-"

His hand snatched his wand from his desk in a flash and performed a non-verbal summoning charm. A new bottle of firewhiskey whizzed fro m the shelf and into his shaking hands.

Draco fumbled with the cap with difficulty. He raised the bottle to his lips once the lid was off. Apparantly, he wasn't drunk enough to shut everything down.  Apparently, one bottle of firewhiskey wasn't enough. He wanted out, completely.

"They say she's been in Ireland for two years. Nobody knows why she decided to come back suddenly."

He took a long swig from the bottle, making him wince due to the potent burn but managed to down half the bottle through splutters of his attempted defiance.

"She's friends with Harry Potter; a close friend at that. You have probably seen her on the Prophet before. You know that publication that endorsed Potter on the war? Quibbler, I think its name was. She's the daughter of the editor."

His throat felt raw and his vision had gone dangerously blurred. The coversation he kept replaying on his head had reduced into an indistinct buzz, which was what he was trying to achieve initially. Absently, he raised the bottle once again to his mouth just for good measures; just to make sure he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

Draco was about to finish his second bottle when the creaking of the door somehow managed to penetrate through his dazed senses. He looked back over his shoulder, bottle still poised toward his mouth.

"Draco?"

Astoria stood there in her burgundy bath robes, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of broken glass on the floor. She didn't say anything for a moment as her pale blue eyes move from Draco to the bottle he was holding.

"Draco?" She repeated, now walking cautiously around the remnants of the broken glass toward him. "What are you- Is everything alright, dear?"

He lowered the bottle but kept his grip on it, as if his very sanity depended on it. Who know? Maybe it did. 

"Everything's fine, Astoria." Draco was surprised by the nonchalance on his voice. "You needn't be worried."

Astoria stood beside his chair, looking down at him, eyeing the weariness in his facial features. "Can you tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes." He said shortly, a sense of finality in his tone. 

He tilted his head slowly to face her. She was staring down at him with her back straight and her stance composed, looking naturally sophistcated even in her bathrobe. She was the definition of an aristocratic woman, born to prestige and the world of silver and gold. She was everything a pureblood lady should be.

His eyes travelled down to her left hand. A brilliant silver and emerald ring was resting on her finger, glimmering almost iredescently when it caught rays of light. The sight of it alone was a testament in itself; a kind of wake-up call that sealed the decision he made two years ago.

He, Draco Malfoy, would be marrying Astoria Greengrass in a few weeks time. It would do him no good to hold on to what happened in the past. It would do him abosolutely no good if he continued to live with his other foot off the ground; if he continued to wake up everyday surreptuosly hoping that it had all been a bad dream, that he would turn to his side and see a tangle of dirty blonde hair instead of black.

The gleam of the ring on Astoria's finger brought him back to reality. This was what he decided. She was who he chose. It wouldn't be long until Astoria became a Malfoy-- his bride, his other half. 

And then maybe, just maybe, he would learn to move on from the ghost of everything that happened two years ago.


	2. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's whirlwind of emotions swirling out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted the day after tomorrow so stay tuned!! This is just a filler chapter-- just establishing what needs to be established.
> 
> I appreciate those who had dropped a comment and a good 'ol kudos. Let me know what you think!!
> 
> Lovelots, Elaiza

The towering paperworks and the clutter of unread memos were proofs of how much work Draco was trying to accomplish. The silence was disturbed only by the furious scratching of his quill on parchment and the ticking of the wall clock.

It had been three days since that night when he clutched onto the confines of firewhiskey as if it was his lifeline, when he suddenly was unable to orient himself in the swirl of flashbacks that were too painful to bear. He tried to act as unaffected as he could but the knowledge that she would be coming back had the knack of doing otherwise. 

That was the problem, Draco thought. The problem was the fact that she could still invade his mind even if she wasn't even aware of doing it. She was at Ireland  but he already felt vaguely tortured by the mere memory of her; an agonizing presence of a ghost that he couldn't run away from. What more if he would see her everyday at work?

He furrowed his brows and scratched his quill harder on the report. He would just get enough excuse to go to work everyday earlier than everyone and go home after everybody had. That way, the chance of running into her would be pretty slim. Draco considered that thought for a moment then stared stupidly at the mess of undone reports and permits infront of him. He only had to do half of this himself as he wasn't the only one in his department but he figured that it would keep him busy and preoccupied. It was better than alcohol, wasn't it?

Absently, he wondered if she was already back in the country or if she was already a few floors above him. His egotistical side wondered if she was in any way anxious of meeting him and if she had been thinking about him too, one way or another.

However, the questions that had been buzzing inside his head like a hundred doxies made him stop in the middle of writing. 

What would she do if they met? 

Would she ask questions? Would she want him to explain why? Draco gulped back the lump forming in his throat. What if she just ignored him as if nothing had happened at all? He gripped the quill that was still poised on the parchment so hard it was a wonder why it didn't snap in half. Why did he consider her not caring a bad thing?

Draco knew the answer, he always had done. It was so simple, no further explanation would be needed to understand the situation. He had known ever since those dreamy eyes watched him analytically through the cold darkness of the Manor's cellar. He had known ever since she smiled at him behind a curtain of dirty blonde hair when he first went down to bring her food. He was aware since then that he wouldn't be able to get her out of his head even if he tried.

How he bitterly wished he hadn't come down that one night to the cellar. How we wanted to go back in time and stop himself from craving her companionship throughout that dark chapter of his life, when the very foundation of his life had revolved around the Dark Lord and the war. If he hadn't been caught up in the middle of the cataclysmic swirl of obligations and do-it-or-die pressure, he wouldn't have given her even a second glance. He was just desperate, that was all there was. He just needed someone to share the weight with and she just happened to be locked in his house's cellar.

 

If he hadn't lingered longer everytime he went down than needed, the tight feeling in his chest wouldn't be appearing everytime he heard her name.

The ink-loaded quill and the parchment had been shoved to the side with an exasperated sigh. His hands ran through his hair as he closed his eyes for a brief second to will himself to stop thinking.

Through all the hazy numbness that suddenly coursed his body, he was vaguely aware of the fact that he had known this turn of event would come to pass a long time ago. Somehow, he had anticipated this with an intense anxiousness for almost everyday.

It wasn't a wonder why she suddenly wanted to come back, or atleast had to come back. 

She would want to see her friends again; the only people she considered family aside from her own blood. That was just the type of person she was-- she put a great deal of sentimental value upon those who were closest to her. Draco could say that he knew her enough, atleast that he could admit. For her, the bond that had been established between people was a kind of luxury, a precious piece of unearthed gem so rare that it had to be treasured immensely. 

That connection would be something she would want to establish again, wouldn't it?

Then again, would she want to regain what she and Draco had in the past?

He gripped the edge of his desk so hard it turned his knuckles white. Something new was bubbling from the pit of his stomach that made his sweat ran cold, something that he had always resented feeling- fear. An anxiousness to a different level had his insides feel like they had been drenched in ice. 

Yes, he thought; that was the kind of thing she would do, or would want to do- she had always valued any kind of human interaction as long as it ran along the lines of pleasant and welcoming. It was the very glue that kept everything in her intact. Without those connections, the bond of friends or something much more intimate, she would fall apart.

He knew because she told him so once.

A wave of nauseous guilt had mingled with the settling fear in his system in a startling second. Suddenly, his mind wandered to what he might have caused her to feel-- the pain and the grief. Draco gulped, a cold sweat running down the side of his face.

She had given everything to him completely, even the things he knew he didn't deserve. She willingly surrendered all there was for him and he suddenly felt a pang of shame for taking everything she had to offer. Draco's brain betrayed him as it flashed a memory of her smiling in that carefree way, when her eyes sparkled and her hand absently tucking a strand of golden hair to the back of her ear. 

That imagd became distorted before it faded away, a new memory rippling into focus. She was now laughing, her silky dirty blonde hair framing her features like a porcelain angel. Draco couldn't point out the exact time it happened but he somehow knew that she was laughing because of him, because of something he did. Those memories had been stored away for too long that Draco was concerned he had forgotten about them, about her. 

But he hadn't. Draco hadn't forgotten. He knew by heart, even if the details in his head had faded, that during that little piece of recollection, they were watching the sunset near Ottery St. Catchpole. She laughed because he had forgotten about the flower she had put behind his ear and he sat beside her completely oblivious of a pink lily besmirching his masculinity. She had melted into giggles when he annoyedly threw the hideous flower away and glowered at her exasperatedly. m

He gave off a shaky sigh as he closed his eyes, letting the details of her face infiltrate what was left of his sanity.

It took him a moment to realize it. He didn't really know what to make of it. He didn't know that the painful contraction in his chest was in fact his heart aching at the resounding melody of her voice echoing in his head.

Draco missed her. He probably wouldn't admit it, but he knew it deep inside him; painfully and bitterly.

He kept his eyes closed as the scene inside his head changed. Draco prepared himself for the worst as her voice speaking words of endearment slowly morphed into pained sobs. The once dreamy look in her eyes had been clouded by a steady stream of tears as she clutched onto his hand, begging for him to not go away, never to leave her.

But he did. He had stopped himself from thinking that thought long ago, but he did leave her. Draco remembered it too well, like it was just a day before yesterday when he closed the door shut, taking a final glimpse of the sobbing girl on the floor, scrambling to her feet to get to the door before he had gone and left.

Draco blinked back furiously, angry tears had welled behind his eyes. His fists were clenched, his breathing shalow and rapid. He suddenly felt mad-- at himself, at his own cowardice, at what he had made her feel all those time back.

You don't leave a person in agony without explaining why it had to happen. You don't slam the door at the person who had made you feel a thousand of different emotions in a single dreamy smile. You don't retire in bed everynight knowing that that person had had to cry herself to even sleep.  It just wasn't right.

And Draco damn well knew that he had been wrong.


	3. Hiding

Groaning exasperatedly, Draco snatched the quill and parchment that he had unceremoniously swept aside and began completing what he had left off. The wall clock continued to tick, sounding oddly amplified in Draco's pounding ears. His hand worked on its own accords as it glided through the parchment in shaky strokes.

It had been long since his very nerves failed him like this, since everything in his head became a distorted mess. The last time he had felt this kind of feeling, he was at Hogwarts, standing infront the Vanishing Cabinet and simultaneously planning how to kill Albus Dumbledore. But then, it was understandable at the time, wasn't it? Of course, anyone would feel the same ferocious mixture of confusion and anxiousness when they had been ordered to kill. 

It was different this time. 

Draco had no reason whatsoever to even feel the slightest unease upon the memory of her. He had cut himself from any connection with her when he uttered those words that she answered only by a heart-aching sob. He had put the last remaining pieces of the puzzle that signifies the end between the thing they had when he proposed to the youngest Greengrass. The emerald ring on Astoria's finger had been put on because of that decision and it was that decision that he knew he could never ever change even if he died trying.

He knew because it was him who made sure of it.

Suddenly, as if summoned by his need of a distraction, someone knocked on the door, the sound of it pulling Draco out of his mind's dark abyss. 

"Come in." He said automatically, keeping his tone as authorative as possible.

The door opened, revealing a scrawny boy with thick-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes comically, an 'Intern' tag was pinned on his shirt. He cleared his throat as he stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him.

"G'morning, Mr. Malfoy." The intern gave a brief bow that seemed more to Draco like an odd jerk of the head. Draco greeted back with a curt nod.

"Uhm....you are needed in the, er, Improper Use of Magic office for an urgent meeting. Says it's of immediate importance, sir."

"What's it about?" Draco asked. Normally, he didn't approve of unscheduled appointments as they create holes in his well-organized schedule but he needed the distraction. He needed it for the sake of his remaining sanity.

"It's about them drunk German wizards who set fire in a Muggle farm, sir. Nasty case it was, sir. Madame Penelope Weasley specifically told me to tell you to come as soon as possible."

Draco nodded when the intern had finished speaking. He waved a hand of dismissal which the intern responded by turning on his heels and closing the door as he left. 

A sigh escaped his lips. Being the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation really did had its ups and downs and doing a heck ton of paperworks and attending daily meetings were just one of them. Standing up, he straightened his robes and tried to flatten his platinum blonde hair to his pallid forehead. After his Hogwarts days, he realized that he didn't really fancy having his hair slicked back like it's been glued to his head. However, the new style of his hair tended to make it stick up all over the place like a patch of golden grass which he had given up taming a long time ago.

He strode towards the door, opened it and walked outside. The corridor was packed with buzzing Ministry workers as usual and it proved to be hard work to navigate his way through everyone. Finally, he turned a corner and made his way towards the stairs that went up to the Improper Use of Magic Office.

Draco took the stairs two at a time, glancing at his wristwatch and wondering if the head of the Improper Use of Magic would take his head if he arrived late. He admitted that it was indeed a serious matter; that case with the German wizards had caused chaos in different departments in the Ministry and it was just his luck that his was concerned.

Halfway up the stairs, Draco heard footsteps coming from the landing above which seemed more hurried and frantic than his own. A figure then trotted down the stairs and he found himself halting and stepping sideways to make room for them to pass, though Draco couldn't see their face because of the shadow that their tangle of wild hair casted. Somehow, there was an odd urgent feeling at the pit of his stomach to see what they looked like. The way they jogged down the stairs with their dirty blonde hair catching in the wind made Draco feel a squeeze of bitter familiarity in his chest.

It was a woman, alright, and she was having difficulty with the stacks of folders and papers that was tilting dangerously, clutched with two trembling hands.

"Oh!" 

The woman's foot sudenly slipped just when she was a few meters up from Draco. He still couldn't see her face due to the bright light of the chandelier above that obscured everything below with shadows. Papers and folders cascaded down the stairs as she gripped the banister to stop herself from falling.

Draco had been quick. With a wave of his wand, the folders flew back and rearranged themselves in a stack next to him. Bending, he picked up the papers and moved to give it to the woman.

Only, the woman was already infront of him.

The papers met the floor for the second time in a shower of reports and documents. The place seemed to blur in and out of focus as he gaped at the woman standing before him; the woman who invaded the peace and quiet of his dreams, the woman whom he slammed a door at and abandoned, the woman he had thought for a very short period of time was his.

It was Luna Lovegood's turn to wave her wand, making the papers zoom into her hands and restack. Tucking her wand in its place behind her ear, she did something that Draco had never thought he'd see her do again. 

She smiled.

It wasn't a sneer. There wasn't a trace of coldness or hurt or even disgust in that smile. Draco had been pretty sure that she'd scream, shout, get angry or even hurt every piece of Draco she could reach. He was sure that she'd want him to understand just how pained she was. 

He definitely, for the love of Merlin, hadn't expected her to smile; brightly, genuinely. Seeing her eyes glimmering happily the way they had two years ago made Draco feel the most unbearable stab of guilt to the heart. He had watched that carefree glimmer disappear just as he watched her heart break. 

Luna looked the same. It irked Draco that she had looked exactly as he remembered. Her hair, her eyes, the way she walked, the way she kept her wand behind her ear...nothing had changed-- not even her smile.

Draco let his mind wander to that one night. He had not forgotten the way she pleaded, the way she kept repeating those three words in hopes that it would make him change his mind, the way she trembled, the way she screamed. Draco compared that girl to the one standing infront of him.

"Hello, Draco." Luna's voice somehow floated inside his train of thoughts.

It seemed forever until Luna uttered the next few words.

"It's nice to see you again."

Draco couldn't speak. It was as if someone had stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Luna's words kept repeating in his head. It's nice to see you again.

Had that meant to be sarcastic?

Shaking his head rather vigorously, he cleared his throat and said the first words that came to his head. "Y-you too."

"Has it already been two years?" She asked. "It only seems like yesterday, doesn't it? Merlin, time does fly fast."

Luna smiled serenely at him, completely missing the look on his face. How could she? How could she stand here infront of him and talk about it like she had just commented about the weather? Her eyes wandered to her wristwatch and widened.

"Well, as much as I want to have a little chat. It's my first day in the job. Can't afford to be late now, can I? I better be off, I guess." She said, not awaiting his reply.

And with that, she walked past him, glancing over her shoulder and waving with her free hand.

Draco watched her figure descend the marble staircase. He watched until there was nothing more of Luna he could see but a blur of dirty blonde hair as she turned a corner. His heart was beating a thousand at a time. He didn't realize that his own hair had been plastered to his forehead by cold sweat that was now making his whole body shiver. He stood rooted on his spot, completely forgetting of the fact that he was already five minutes late for the meeting.

With legs that had been turned to lead, he continued to climb up the stairs, his brain buzzing with how fast things had occured. 

"Hello, Draco. It's nice to see you again."

Why, Draco thought. Why would it be nice to see him again? He probably inflicted the worst kind of pain to her, for Merlin's sake. It would be anything but nice to see him again.

Then again, Draco wondered if she had meant to be vaguely snarky in that comment. Except, she sounded like she meant it, like nothing had happened between them at all.

Draco felt angry. He felt deceived. He felt infuriated by the way Luna spoke to him. He knew that he didn't have the right to feel these emotions let alone be carried away with them. But to think that she acted like it was nothing of importance at all left a mingled hurt and anger in his system.

He didn't realize that he had reached the landing and was now walking yet another corridor. He was so deep in his thought that was being bombarded by questions that he didn't notice the intern that came to his office waving and shouting. Draco didn't even care if he turned the right corner. He didn't even apologize to Marietta Edgecombe when he accidentally shoved her aside.

A boiling desperation took over Draco. Something's wrong, he thought. Luna wouldn't have handled that situation with a smile and with  a 'nice to see you again, Draco', Something was definitely not right. 

Turning on his heels, he sprinted back on the opposite direction, completely ignoring the poor intern's shouts of 'Please, Mr. Malfoy. The office is this way!". He was determined that there was something going on. He was determined that Luna had not meant to ignore him. Because he wasn't sure if he could take it if she really had.

There were only a very few people who could make Luna act like that and minutes had gone by until he realized that his feet were taking him to them.

It was with some difficulty that he descended the stairs where he had just saw Luna a few minutes ago. Partly because his frantic pace enabled him to take awkward three-step leaps and because Luna's smiling face kept flashing in his mind. He shoved more people out of his way, climbed more staircases and waited in the lift that will take him to the level where he wanted to be.

Finally, the lift opened and he was the first one to emerge, elbowing a stout wizard as he did. It didn't take him long to reach the right corridor. 

He halted outside a dark oak door, a shining plaque nailed to the surface. Draco didn't need to look at it to know who was inside. He raised his hand and pounded on the wood, not caring if he dislodged the door on its hinges.

"Enter."

Draco pushed the door open, chest heaving rapidly and beads of sweat running down his face. He looked at the person sitting on the desk, his green eyes evidently confused through his round spectacles. Harry Potter wasn't alone. Ron Weasley was sitting on the edge of the desk, his mouth bulging with the sandwich he had been rudely interrupted to eat. A bushy head told Draco that Hermione was there too though she was past caring at that point. 

Great, he thought. The Golden Trio all in one room. Draco gave them a look that he hoped was enough to tell them what the matter was because he wasn't really sure how to translate it to words. Unfortunately, Potter was too slow as to what was happening, Weasley was too busy chewing his sandwhich and Granger had her attention on the magazine she had been reading.

"What's the matter, Draco?" Harry asked, his head tilted slightly to the left. "You look like you've been running away from an army of Inferi. What is it?"

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he racked his mind for the best explanation of what exactly happened. He didn't want to sound like an annoying teenage girl pouting about how his ex ignored him. Well, Luna didn't exactly ignore him but that was still the point. He scrolled through his head of how to start explaining, then stopped, satisfied.

"I saw Luna today." He said shortly, his voice raspy. His goal was to impact them as hard as he could and it appeared that it was rather effective.

"We talked."

The sound made by a hyperventilating ghoul was the only response he got. Except it wasn't a ghoul. It was Ron Weasley choking on his own sandwhich. Harry was on his feet, caught in the middle of helping Ron and staring at Draco with disbelieving eyes. Hermione was draining of color so much that it was comical.

"W-what?" Hermione croaked, blinking up at him like he had sprouted horns.

If their reactions weren't those of the guilty, Draco didn't know what was. Though, he himself wasn't certain what they were supposed to be guilty about.

"I think you heard me, Granger."

There wasn't an ounce of doubt in him now. Their widened eyes and the way they fidgeted confirmed what Draco needed to know. Something was definitely up.

Ron had managed to get the chunk of turkey sandwhich out of his throat and was now looking at Harry to Hermione, their expressions mirroring each other's. Harry, however cleared his throat in an attempt to break the building tension around the room.

"Is that so?" Harry said, his mouth curving into a smile that only looked like a grimace. "Well, I do hope you two have put aside what needs to be put aside. It's all in the past now, isn't it? I'm sure Luna would want to know you've moved on."

Draco missed Harry's foot kicking Ron's from under the desk. Ron got the message, though and nodded his head vigorously, copying Harry's idea of a smile which resembled the look of someone eating something sour.

Draco sneered sarcastically, his hands balled into fists at his side. He couldn't take it anymore. Now that his hypothesis had reached its conclusion, he couldn't stand a second longer knowing that there was something they had been hiding.

"Enough with niceties, Potter!" He hissed, voice shaking due to his repressed fury. "What have you told Luna?"

"What are you t-talking about, Draco?" Hermione gulped, looking over her shoulder to Harry who had his brows furrowed. 

Ignoring her words, Draco ran a hand to his sweat-slicked hair. He paced around the room, feeling three pairs of anxious eyes following his movements. He started muttering to himself, pacing back and forth inside Harry's office. 

Hermione met Harry's eyes. She had been anxious ever since Draco marched into the room and that thing she had been dreading seemed to be confirmed. She knew that they couldn't keep it a secret forever and she vaguely thought to herself that Draco deserved to know. Harry nodded grimly, understanding her silent permission. 

It was time to tell Draco the truth.


	4. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late, I know

With a trembling hand, Hermione brushed a strand of bushy hair that has been plastered to her forehead by cold sweat. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, as if her ability to speak was non-existent. Finally, she shook her head and spoke in a small voice.

"Look, Draco" At this, the blonde's pacing stopped and he looked at Hermione with a fierce intensity, as if urging her to go on. Hermione drew out a shaky breath. "There is something we have not been telling you."

"And exactly what is that, Granger?" Draco's voice echoed through the room, seething in anger and yet bursting with curiosity. 

"Something that we ought to have told you long ago." It was Harry. "We apologize, Draco, for not telling you. But what can I say, it was a secret. Luna trusted us with it, and we felt obliged to keep it for ourselves. Honestly, we agreed not to tell you. Luna's wish, of course. But we should have been wiser. We should have known that you'd need to know it, especially since it concerns you." Wearily, like a man drained from work, he took off his glasses and polished it with the sleeves of his shirt.

Draco opened his mouth to ask the burning questions that he wanted to be answered but Harry raised his left hand, signalling him to stop. Harry motioned to an empty chair beside Hermione, and Draco obliged, crossing his legs, looking around his companions and weighing the inevitable. 

"All we ask of you, Draco" Harry said suddenly. "Is to hear us out. We'll answer all your questions, all of it. I promise you that. But for now, just...just let us explain."

Draco nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart hammered through his chest: a combination of frustration and something else he couldn't quite make of. It could have been fear. Fear of what he was about to hear.

With a final look at Hermione and Ron, Harry began to speak. "It started, of course, two years ago. Luna was heartbroken. There's no sugarcoating it. She wouldn't eat. She barely slept. She wouldn't talk to any of us. We tried talking to her, we really did but she would just shake her head and say that she wouldn't want to hear about it...about you."

With this, Harry stole a quick glance at Draco, hoping to see a reaction but Draco was surprisingly taking it quite well and just nodded for Harry to go on. Harry obliged.

"Days passed, weeks passed and Luna still hadn't improved. In fact, she got even worse. After her father died, she continued to live in their house near Ottery St. Catchpole but it was as if she wasn't even there. Like I said, she wouldn't go out. Luna lost an awful amount of weight too and if you'd had the chance to see her during that time, I doubt if you would recognize her."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded slowly as a silent tear rolled down her cheek. It was her who spoke this time. "I talked to a muggle doctor, a psychiatrist because I knew that Luna needed help. The doctor said that she might have depression. It was obvious, of course. I had known deep inside that she was suffering from something, but I had to be sure."

She paused and took a deep, shaky breath. 

"And as her friends, it really hurt us to think that Luna- the Luna that we knew, the Luna who was dreamy, and carefree, and strong...the Luna who could never be fazed by anything or anyone was depressed." 

There was no anger in her voice, not even grief or sadness. In fact, there was no distinguishable emotion in it. Hermione simply stated it casually, like how you would tell a person that his shoelaces are untied or that he has a stain on his shirt. 

It was as if she had not been holding it for two years.

There was silence. Hermione's tears now fell uncontrollably and Harry's eyes were glassy behind his glasses. 

Draco, on the other hand, was numb. He was lost in a raging waterfall that was his emotions. He was crushed underneath unforgiving torrents, he was submerged. He couldn't come up the surface. He was sinking but somehow he wouldn't drown.

Everything he heard, every single thing they told him about Luna hit him like a swift and sharp knife, the kind that lacerates before it even stings. Perhaps, that's what was happening. Perhaps, the knife had already tore through him, damaged him but he was not yet aware of the pain.

He raised his hand to his eye, checking if he had cried. It felt like he had. He hadn't. His eyes were dry. Somehow, he wanted to cry. He wanted to cry because he knew he should cry, because he knew that he should be feeling something by now.

But he was still numb.

It was a curious thing. 

The tense and deafening silence was broken by Ron who was speaking for the first time. "It got worse than that." he said, his hands crossed lazily across his chest as he leaned against Harry's desk. Unlike Harry and Hermione, he didn't bother keeping his temper on check. On his face was written concealed rage and a mild hostility; two years worth of it. His face was almost the same color as his fiery hair, his lips where trembling and his hands were formed into fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. It was evident that he had suppressed this for far too long and if only his eyes could kill, Draco Malfoy would not be breathing any longer.

"Tell him Hermione." Ron said without taking his eyes off Draco's. "Tell this bastard what you and Ginny saw in Luna's room."

Hermione sobbed even louder at this as she shook her head hastily, muttering 'no' repeatedly. Harry brought his fist to his desk, not to intimidate or alarm his best friend but only to get his attention.

"Ron," Harry warned. "Do not bring that up. Please."

"He has to know about that, Harry!"

"He's right." The voice of Draco stopped Harry before he could reply. "Whatever it is, I need to hear it."

Draco felt like his mouth was moving on its own accord. Everything seemed hazy, surreal, like he was in a dream where he could never wake up. 

Harry had already opened his mouth to argue but he was stopped by Hermione's watery croak.

"W-we can't keep it a secret forever, Harry."

Harry ran two frustrated hands through his hair, debating silently with himself. He promised to Luna that he wouldn't tell anyone about it but by doing so, guilt bore through him excruciatingly. It seemed like an eternity before he sighed and nodded, defeated. 

"This happened seven months after you left." Harry said softly. "We were visiting Luna quite often. We were keeping her in check, making sure she was alright. I don't think she minded us going to her house many times a week. Actually, I don't think she minded anything. It was as if Luna was not there at all. "

"Hermione and Ginny visited her one night. They organized her house, tidied up the place because, well, Luna wasn't in any condition to do chores at the time. Depression ate her from the inside out."

Harry paused for a second and closed his eyes with a shaky sigh. Then before he could continue the story, Ron had already done it.

"We were foolish. We were idiots, Draco." said Ron, the hostility present in his voice moments ago was now replaced by grief so solemn that Draco felt himself trembling in silent agony. "We were idiots to think that Luna wouldn't try something, that Luna wouldn't want to escape."

Escape.

This word echoed through the hollow nothingness in Draco and awakened the extinguished fire that was his emotions, his sentiment. The dam that had been holding everything collapsed and with the turbulent current of sorrow, despair and guilt came the first appearance of his tears. He felt them fall from his eyes and down his cheeks, but he didn't weep, he didn't sob. The only indication that he ever felt anything were the precious teardrops that were steadily flowing.

Escape has a lot of meaning but only one was haunting enough in its own twisted metaphor.

Suicide.

Would Luna really try to kill herself?

Draco felt his mouth moving even before he heard his own raspy voice. "What did they see in her room?"

Ron looked away from Draco, his shoulders visibly sagged at the suddenness of the question. His mouth opened and closed, as if contemplating what words would be best to use. Harry wasn't even trying. He had his head between his hands, like a child being scolded who just wanted it all to be over.

"A bottle of poison." Hermione said as steadily as she could. "It was under her pillow. We got rid of it immediately."

There was a split second of disorientation as the words rang inside Draco's head. He was hit with realization so potent that he found himself gripping the armrest of his chair with white-knuckled intensity.He asked himself why he was even shocked, why it even impacted him. He saw it coming, didn't he? Somehow, a part of him knew that it would happen, right? But to hear it from another's mouth as a confirmation of what he feared was indeed devastating.

"Are you alright, Draco?" There was a cautious tone in Hermione's voice, as if Draco was a bomb that could detonate any second.

Draco surprised even himself when he nodded not because he thought he could't physically do it but because he knew that the lie was for himself. 

"What happened next?" Draco's voice sounded foreign and faraway.

Everyone was silent. Everyone was reluctant to speak. The silver grey eyes of Draco wandered around faces of his three companions, trying to deduce the truth from glassy eyes that would not meet his.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat and forced his green eyes to look at Draco. His eyes were sad as though he was mourning and grieving inside and when he spoke, his voice was genuine in its solemnity that Draco realized for the first time that whatever happened to Luna two years ago impacted her friends too, just as it impacted Draco when he first knew the truth.

"We knew we had to do something," Harry said. "Before it's too late. Before Luna was beyond saving."

"Hermione came up with something that could help Luna." Harry continued with a sideway glance at Hermione. "Initially, we thought it wouldn't work, that it would do more harm than good but since it was the best option we had, we agreed to give it a go."

Draco ran a shaky hand to his sweat-slicked hair. He could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage in sick anticipation. "What did you do to her?" There was no sense of accusation in his voice but the words trembled as though his throat was not permitting him to speak any more.

"Memory Charm." Harry only had to say two words. He could only say two words.

Draco had been falling into an abyss but now, he reached the bottom. Realization. That's the dagger that's been stabbing his heart. It's realization so sudden, so overwhelming in its intensity that his head swam and his sight blurred.

It was like one of those times when something happens very suddenly that the brain doesn't know what to react. It's shock at its finest, and at its worst.

Luna doesn't remember me, he thought to himself over and over until it lost its initial appeal, its intial sting. He is numb. He felt nothing. He knew that he should feel something, anything. Instead, he felt impossibly hollow, as if all emotions left him for the mean time.

There was movement. Draco's hand waved a gesture weakly, telling his audience to continue, to finish the story...to just get it over with.

It was Hermione who obliged.

"We did it little by little. It was a tiny bit of her memory, of your memories together that we erase everyday for two months." She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "The job was easy. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to erase certain memories of her. It was easy because she wanted them gone, the little fragments of her life that reminded her of you. She'd guide us, me and Ginny, to a memory that she wanted to be out of her thoughts and we would just utter the spell.

"Of course, we had to take it slow. It took us two months to completely wipe everything that had to do with you." Hermione gave a weak, sad smile. "The more she forgot, the more happier she was. She returned to her old self, and we were euphoric of course. The Luna that we knew was back. That was when we realized that we did the best thing."

Draco stopped listening after that. He didn't say anything. Just looked at the patterns on the wall. Someone was speaking, but the buzzing in his head made it impossible for him to understand. 

The more she forgot, the happier she was. These words stung him like a thousand bees. And after everything he heard that day, those words hurt the most. 

A tear fell from his eye. Then another. Then another. 

He didn't bother wiping them away.


End file.
